Partners in Crime
by 0torno
Summary: Bobby and Warren.


Warren Worthington was by no extent of the imagination a creative person. He was a performer, yes, the perfect socialite who could charm the pants (or skirts) off ladies with one dazzling smile, or close a multimillion business deal with a mere wink - but the composure necessary for success in the business world was hardly comparable to the Shakespearian soliloquies Hank could recite, and besides, even if he had been able to memorize them (unlikely; poetry seemed to slip from his mind like water from a sieve) there was no way he could come close to the heart and soul his friend put into the execution.

Despite having impeccable penmanship, Warren's motor skills when it came to drawing were negligible (even worse than Bobby's!) He was notoriously bad, so much that everyone argued about who should have the handicap of having him on their team when they played Pictionary. And his singing voice was nothing to call home about, not unless you were asking your parents to _please pick me up because this guy doesn't know how to sing at all_. (He could hit the notes, most of the time even if he wasn't sober. He just wasn't very good anyway. In contrast, Bobby's enthusiasm nearly made up for his own off-key singing.)

Warren was, in fact, rather uncreative in every traditional sense. Innovative business schemes were a far cry from composing symphonies, or painting as well as Piotr could, or orchestrating grand pranks like Bobby's - which was why Warren needed him. The man got too serious, especially in later years, especially with the cold angst that Archangel brought with his return - the brooding and drinking and sex and nihilistic attitude. The mansion was sometimes desperately in need of lightening up, even back at the beginning, and hey, who wouldn't enjoy seeing Scott get bombarded with water balloons? It was a classic.

Warren was often the catalyst for the crimes. He was the one who would remark, "Boy, Scott sure spends lots of time listening to that Springsteen album," or "So Hank told me his permanent skin-dye thing is finally working," or "Do you think Scott thinks I left that volume shampoo in his room on purpose?" or "Scott really needs to lighten up," or "So Scott said he's planning on asking Jean on a date." He expressed these statements in honest innocence, but the evil light that would kindle in Bobby's eyes as an idea formed promised that their end result would be anything but. Scott was probably the most frequent victim. With an uptight attitude like his, he was practically asking for it. He never learned, either, how Bobby fed off his frustration - howling with laughter and clutching his sides as Jean made a hasty exit to fix her soaking hair, leaving Scott standing there, forlornly holding the offending flowers.

Warren usually protested at first, halfheartedly, before Bobby won him over with another spectacular scheme. His role in the pranks were small, usually providing money for Bobby to go to the dollar store, or maybe planting information where the other wouldn't be trusted as a source. And people did tend to trust Warren. There was something disarming in his perfect charming smile, the warmth and sincerity in those painfully blue eyes striking you dumb as if gazing upon the blinding glory of a true angel. Then, it was no wonder that women flocked to him.

There was a rule between them that Warren's girlfriends were strictly off-limits, although Bobby apparently took that as more of a guideline than an actual rule and seemed to take particular glee in pranking them, and Warren usually ended up serving as an unwitting accomplice to Bobby's sadistic genius. Even when there was someone more important than Bobby, he was still the only inspiration.

Bobby was the orchestrator, the planner and designer and engineer, the mastermind behind every prank, every booby trap, every ruined hair day and date, the puppeteer behind every trick, and Warren's idle ruminations would never lead to anything on that scale without him. But in the end, the thing was this: Warren was the inspiration, the Muse, and without him nothing would ever be begun at all.

They played off each other. And even if Warren never lost his reputation as a cultured playboy too serious and too busy wooing women to bother with such silly things, they were partners in crime until the very end.

And damn, if they didn't make a good team.


End file.
